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Authors: Rita Bradshaw
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tweed. He looked like what he was – a prosperous employer who had never gone without a meal in his life – and now Luke’s voice was flat and hard when he said, ‘Aye, and I shan’t forget me membership’s bought with such as the Penrhyn quarrymen. Two years long, their dispute over union recognition, and them and their families destitute to the point where David Lloyd George asked the TUC for bread for their bairns last month. Lord Penrhyn wants shooting if you ask me.’
Frederick Weatherburn stared into the young, good-looking face of this callow upstart, as he thought of Luke Blackett. This was what came of education of the masses; they got ideas above their station and began to think for themselves. A working man was at his best when he could neither read nor write, everyone knew that. Hadn’t his own father refused to employ any individual who knew their letters? And he’d been right. By, he had. But he must go carefully here. He’d other fish to fry than putting this ignorant numbskull in his place, and Luke was Eva’s stepson when all was said and done. He had looked at the situation very carefully before he had given his consent for Hilda to marry Henry, but as it was, with the farm’s steady downhill descent, things couldn’t have turned out more satisfactorily. Aye, he’d hold his hand with this young understrapper, he could afford to.
Frederick rose somewhat ponderously to his feet before he spoke, noting with some satisfaction that Walter and his wife were looking anxious – as well they might; they relied heavily on his help at haymaking time and such like – and then he said coolly, ‘Maybe, lad, maybe, but I doubt his family would thank you for the thought. Well, I must be off. That was a grand tea, Alice, as always.’
Sanctimonious, patronising so-an’-so, he didn’t know he was born. Luke was red-faced and inwardly burning with righteous indignation as he watched the older man take his leave amid effusive goodbyes from Polly’s mother and the family. According to his stepmother, there were a good few men and lads employed full time at Stone Farm, besides female staff in the house and the like. When had Weatherburn ever worked until he was fit to drop? Not often, he’d be bound, and he’d certainly not gone home at the end of a soul-destroyingly long shift to a wife who was as thin as a rake through taking in washing and any other work she could find, and bairns who were bow-legged with rickets and full of ringworm and impetigo. Of course Walter and Henry were a different kettle of fish; they had their own cross to bear in trying to keep this farm afloat, he knew that. He had no quarrel with Polly’s family.
He glanced at Polly now – he had noticed she had been listening avidly while they had been talking, her huge blue eyes flashing from one to another – but she was looking at Michael. By, she was growing up fast, and she was going to be a stunner. What would she say if he told her that the main reason he continued to accompany his stepmother each Sunday was to see her? Laugh, most likely; she wouldn’t understand, she was still just a bairn. And there was Michael. The two of them were as thick as thieves, always had been, and he wasn’t sure if it was just bairns’ friendship or a stronger bond that would develop into something more as they grew. The thought caused the familiar ache in his chest and he now rose abruptly from his seat at the side of the table, nudging Arnold sitting at the side of him to do the same.
Walter, Alice and Henry, along with Eva, had followed Frederick outside into the yard, where the horse and trap were tethered, and now Luke nodded at Hilda, who was still sitting on the saddle with her shawl drawn tightly across her thin shoulders, as he said, woe 11 have to be making tracks too. Goodbye, Mrs Farrow. Come on, Michael.’
Hilda inclined her head coldly but she said nothing, although inwardly she was seething. How dare
Frederick Weatherburn stared into the young, good-looking face of this callow upstart, as he thought of Luke Blackett. This was what came of education of the masses; they got ideas above their station and began to think for themselves. A working man was at his best when he could neither read nor write, everyone knew that. Hadn’t his own father refused to employ any individual who knew their letters? And he’d been right. By, he had. But he must go carefully here. He’d other fish to fry than putting this ignorant numbskull in his place, and Luke was Eva’s stepson when all was said and done. He had looked at the situation very carefully before he had given his consent for Hilda to marry Henry, but as it was, with the farm’s steady downhill descent, things couldn’t have turned out more satisfactorily. Aye, he’d hold his hand with this young understrapper, he could afford to.
Frederick rose somewhat ponderously to his feet before he spoke, noting with some satisfaction that Walter and his wife were looking anxious – as well they might; they relied heavily on his help at haymaking time and such like – and then he said coolly, ‘Maybe, lad, maybe, but I doubt his family would thank you for the thought. Well, I must be off. That was a grand tea, Alice, as always.’
Sanctimonious, patronising so-an’-so, he didn’t know he was born. Luke was red-faced and inwardly burning with righteous indignation as he watched the older man take his leave amid effusive goodbyes from Polly’s mother and the family. According to his stepmother, there were a good few men and lads employed full time at Stone Farm, besides female staff in the house and the like. When had Weatherburn ever worked until he was fit to drop? Not often, he’d be bound, and he’d certainly not gone home at the end of a soul-destroyingly long shift to a wife who was as thin as a rake through taking in washing and any other work she could find, and bairns who were bow-legged with rickets and full of ringworm and impetigo. Of course Walter and Henry were a different kettle of fish; they had their own cross to bear in trying to keep this farm afloat, he knew that. He had no quarrel with Polly’s family.
He glanced at Polly now – he had noticed she had been listening avidly while they had been talking, her huge blue eyes flashing from one to another – but she was looking at Michael. By, she was growing up fast, and she was going to be a stunner. What would she say if he told her that the main reason he continued to accompany his stepmother each Sunday was to see her? Laugh, most likely; she wouldn’t understand, she was still just a bairn. And there was Michael. The two of them were as thick as thieves, always had been, and he wasn’t sure if it was just bairns’ friendship or a stronger bond that would develop into something more as they grew. The thought caused the familiar ache in his chest and he now rose abruptly from his seat at the side of the table, nudging Arnold sitting at the side of him to do the same.
Walter, Alice and Henry, along with Eva, had followed Frederick outside into the yard, where the horse and trap were tethered, and now Luke nodded at Hilda, who was still sitting on the saddle with her shawl drawn tightly across her thin shoulders, as he said, woe 11 have to be making tracks too. Goodbye, Mrs Farrow. Come on, Michael.’
Hilda inclined her head coldly but she said nothing, although inwardly she was seething. How dare
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